We Echo On
by Liisa
Summary: Before starting his quest for the Horcruxes, Harry makes one final stop to close one final door: Number 12 Grimmauld Place


_I've had this written for a while now but have been hesitant to post it because I don't really think it's my best work. But after almost two months of tweaking it, I've decided to put it up and see what you all think._

_The time period for this is sometime in August right after Harry turned 17. Hope you enjoy!_

**We Echo On**

"_I'm here now, waiting_

_Holding on to reasons_

_Wasted, I faced it…_

_Left alone forever_

_All alone together."_

_- "You Say" by Vertical Horizon_

The street was deserted, the only lamp blasted out of existence by drunk muggles, and the autumn leaves barely beginning to fall on the lawn. It was eerily silent, even for a muggle street, and the fact that it was dark didn't help the matter.

Harry let himself stop and leave his mind blank for a moment as he stared at the crack between number 11 and number 13, wondering for the 94th time whether or not he was crazy for doing this. Too many thoughts led him to others till, before he knew it, number 12 materialized in front of him, expanding magically and stretching the space in the crack that he had been standing at.

He didn't move for several minutes, studying the house, remembering the memories…and the pain.

Before he knew it, he found himself standing right in front of the door, his hand reaching down to turn the handle and the musky, damp smell of a deserted house filling his nose.

Walking through the house, Harry felt his footsteps leading the way, his brain not really able to think much. He suddenly regretted his decision to not let Hermione and Ron come with him. He knew they were both probably on pins and needles, waiting at Godric's Hollow for his return.

He had to do this alone, though. He knew that much.

Once again, time escaped him and he found himself standing directly in front of the tapestry, looming large across the wall. He dropped his small pack to the floor and his eyes scanned down, skipping over the numerous burn marks that meant nothing to him…only one.

He ran his finger over the faint burn mark, repeating in his head the spell Hermione had rehearsed with him for hours on end the night before.

Taping his wand against the mark, he softly muttered, "_Revelious haisrec_…"

The spot lit up for a moment, shining brighter than the moonlight streaming in the window until suddenly it was gone, leaving behind it two simple lines:

_Sirius Black_

_1960 - ?_

He blinked once.

Twice.

_What in the…?_

"Harry?"

He whirled around, heart beating wildly and wand pointing outward toward…

Nothing.

He realized his arm was shaking. There was no one in the room.

His eyes gracefully swept the room, trying to gain control of his emotions, telling himself that the voice was nothing to be afraid of.

There was nothing that was worthy enough to earn his fear.

Finally, he stopped shaking, though he did not drop his wand. Casting a last glance, he turned back to the tapestry, glancing once more down at his Godfathers newly restored legacy. So what in the bloody hell was a question mark doing there? And what did it mean?

"Don't be afraid, Harry."

"Who's there?" He shouted this time, mimicking his position before, only this time he knew he would not be able to stop shaking so easily.

His whiled his magic to work and light sprouted from the end of his wand. He only had to move it a few feet to the left to finally see who it was.

It was Sirius.

But…it wasn't…he was…young? Dressed up…?

He felt his heart leap into his throat as his light shook, revealing the jewel incrusted frame surrounding his young Godfather.

No, his Godfather's _portrait_.

"You…you're Harry, aren't you? James' son?"

It was strange to hear Sirius' voice so young and full of life. Harry still hadn't moved from his defensive position, not quite sure how to deal with all the thoughts running through his head. He also made no move to speak.

It seemed Sirius didn't need an answer anyway. He let out a bark-like laugh, so reminiscent of the few times Harry had heard him laugh in life. "What am I saying? Of course you are. You look just like him."

Harry realized that this young Sirius was about his age. Around 16. It must have been painted right before he ran away from home. Naturally Sirius' recognition of James would be a 16 year old James…and Harry himself had just turned 17 two months ago.

Harry still couldn't find the right words.

"Remus told me a lot about you," Sirius continued to smile. "He didn't say you'd ever come back here, though."

"Remus was here?" Harry finally found his voice. It cracked a bit, but at least he had said something.

"Not recently," Sirius admitted. He leaned against the side of his frame casually, looking more like the ruggedly handsome best man at James and Lily's wedding. "But he used to come by a lot, right after the Order had to evacuate. Right after I…well…died."

Harry gulped and managed to lower his wand a bit, his heart slowing finally, replaced by the empty sadness he felt when he thought about his Godfather's fate.

"He…he never mentioned you," Harry admitted, not really upset with Remus. He didn't think he could fit one more emotion into his swirling mind.

"Well, he sure mentioned you a lot." Either Sirius didn't realize how close Harry and his Godfather had been, or he was choosing to ignore the fact that tears were gathering in Harry's eyes. "Went on and on about how he was so proud of you, how proud we would all be of you."

"We?"

"The Marauders, of course," Sirius replied, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "Me, James…"

"Not Peter."

Sirius' face fell a bit for the first time and Harry finally saw a hint of sadness lurk in his bright grey eyes. "No, not Peter."

They were both silent for a moment, a solemn mood descending on the conversation by the mention on the traitorous Marauder.

"What does the question mark mean?" Harry blurted out unexpectedly.

Sirius' head jerked up. "What?"

"You're name, on the tapestry…it…it doesn't show your death date…just a question mark."

Harry saw his Godfather frown for a moment, as if he didn't quite understand the question. But before Harry could try to clarify himself, Sirius did speak.

"A question mark?"

Harry nodded.

"Where my death date should be?"

Nod.

"That's not possible."

"What? Why?"

"Harry…how did I die?"

He frowned. "Didn't Remus tell you?"

Sirius shook his head. "No, just said I did and left it at that. I didn't ask, I mean, I am stuck in this frame forever and I'd rather not dwell on the means of my death."

"So why do you want to know now?"

"That question mark. It only shows up when the person either is 'taken into another plan'," he made the quote signs with his hands, "or when they get lost in another world. Then the tapestry can't pick up their signal, so they just become a question mark. Gone. Untraceable."

Harry put a hand to his head and shook it slightly. "None of that makes any sense. This _is_ the world."

"Alternate universes, parallel worlds…weird things," Sirius' brown furrowed as he thought. "Don't know much about them...stuff like that is better left to the Department of Mysteries."

Harry's head snapped up, his heartbeat racing again. "What?" he snapped.

"The DOM. Spooky branch of the Ministry. Remus said Lily worked in it for a bit before she and James died."

Harry's head was spinning; nothing seemed to make sense anymore. His wand fell out of his grip and his legs gave out, leaving him on the floor, his knees banging hard against the hard carpet beneath.

"That's where you died," he whispered.

"Huh?"

"The Department of Mysteries…that's where you died."

Neither of them spoke, the silence this time lasting longer than before and not being broken by Harry. Unless you counted his shoes lightly rubbing on the floor as he stood up, bringing his wand with him, or his bag rustling as he picked it back up and hung it on his shoulder. His footsteps padded across the room not looking back. As he reached the door, Sirius finally spoke.

"Don't give up on me, Harry."

Harry hesitated at the doorway, not turning around. Finally, in a soft voice he said, "You didn't give up on me…even after 12 years in Azkaban…Nothing in the world could make me give up on you."

And without another word he stepped out of the room, back to his destiny. Back to his life. Back to the prophecy.

Back to the only world he knew.

----

_A/N: And that's it folks. I'm leaving it like this to let everyone form their own thoughts about what exactly happened. Thanks for reading!_


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